Lest We Forget
by kencpd
Summary: Zuko is deeply missed by all his friends. Zuko-centric. (Zuko, Sokka, Aang, Toph, Katara, Uncle Iroh).
1. The Boys

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.

-o-o-o-o-o-

It was tragic, really; and all too sudden... but expected. Short is something to describe a life of a warrior, anyway. It's rare for someone to live past the tender age of twenty-five; and those who usually do are either really lucky, or unusually strong. Unfortunately for the Fire Prince, he lacked both in his fight with his wicked sister, and his life was cut short at the blossoming age of sixteen.

In the rising of the sun, the passion of thousands of people burned for him. Their once bitter tongues exclaimed praises of his honor, and they had cried warm tears from their now mournful eyes. May it be remorse, pity, or sincerity but the Fire Nation has finally, finally, finally welcomed Zuko home.

But, much as the fiery golden orb gradually descends into the horizon each dusk- slowly and inevitably, unseen and forgotten- the once gleaming memories of the glorified prince eventually cooled, as it got buried under the pile of more pressing things in everyone's life. However, in different corners of the Earth, there are some hearts that constantly ache over his absence. And in some days, certain hearts feel a little more brittle than the rest, yearning for what can never come back.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Sokka misses Zuko most in the calm of winter. When flickers of snow are being carried languidly by the cool blowing wind, and his flesh can barely feel the warmth of the sun. When the cloud overhead dims most of the day and promotes the darkest of nights. When white blankets the ground, instead of the usual green or brown.

It was then when he had first met _him._ Sokka would never forget the opening of the ship's over-sized gateway, and in the midst of smoke enters a young man (much like him), leading a troop (much, much more experienced than his). It was truly fascinating how the raven-haired royalty had carried himself down the metallic ramp- flawlessly striking effective blows while donned in what appears to be an indestructible armor. The piercing gaze of his golden eyes, and the roughness of his tone mien intimidation, but not ruthlessness.

Sokka would only chuckle at it now, but he realized how restrained Zuko's attacks were back in that day. The Water Tribe boy was clearly overpowered and outmatched- the fire prince has access to deadlier weapons and fatal fire bending moves- but surprisingly, Sokka got out of the fight sustaining only minor injuries: a small bump on his forehead, and a deep cut on his manly pride. Ultimately though, his village was left unharmed; even Gran-Gran was pushed back onto Katara's arms instead of the ground. _Sigh~_

As Sokka shuts his eyes and inhales the brisk air of the season, nostalgia of that day would come flooding inHe would smile in the sky, where people say _he_ might be, then whisper his thoughts out- enjoying a private conversation with his first rival, and life-long friend. Hoping that the lightness in his tone, and his sprightly words will conceal the heaviness of his heart as he let his voice flow in the soothing current of the wind.

 _You know, I'm chilling out here. A friend could really use some of that fire mumbo-jumbo that you enjoy doing._

And though the cold weather would numb his face, he could only wish it to numb his pain. His nose would get red and runny, and he would stubbornly blame the chill of winter; convincing no one else but himself. But all too suddenly, salty water would touch his lips and his breathing would hitch, and he wouldn't have any excuse or jokes to stop.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Aang remembers Zuko most in the early spring. When the hue of blue would take over the grey sky of winter; displaying an embellishment of cirrocumulus clouds. When the frozen wood frogs would thaw, and their symphonic croaks would permeate through the evening, singing the ballad of the Blue Spirit.

It was _he_ who had rescued Aang from the fortress of the ever-egotistical Admiral Zhao. The odds were highly stacked against them; outmanned 2 to 100, but somehow the duo had managed to escape. And the ' _how'_ was what made that night meaningful. Instantly, there was an unspoken form of camaraderie between them- The masked man and the bald monk had stayed close together during the whole ordeal. They accepted each others' impromptu gestures/instructions that gave rise to synchronized attacks and spontaneous flight. Much like a couple of acrobats, who rests their safety into the others' hands to pull a dangerous stunt. _Teamwork._ Even when things got tight, and the dual broadswords were treading the skin of Aang's throat, he did not flinch, for somehow he knew his partner meant no harm. _Trust._ And when his partner was unmasked, revealing the charred face of the infamous Fire Prince, he felt compelled not just to save him, but to also make sure he was alright. _Loyalty._ It is now ironic that he would later tell Sokka that he did not make a _friend_ that night, because from then on, he had considered him one. Friends do, after all, come in all sorts of form and costumes? and Zuko just happened to come in a blue Oni mask.

 _Oni. Spirits. Bridge. Souls?_

Aang would find himself spending most of the day in meditation to let his astral body wander the Spirit World; pushing its limits, seeking desperately, and hoping to once again meet his fire-bending master and precious friend. But by the end of the day, when he would undoubtedly fail; he would thank the kind clouds and its consoling rain showers for letting him weep without restraint. The rhythmic pitter-patter of water dripping down his clammy skin would perfectly drown the piercing noise of his wrecking heart...

 _I miss you, buddy. Maybe next time._

-o-o-o-o-o-

 **Author's Note:** Next chapter is Toph. Feedback will be much appreciated. Thanks!


	2. The Unrequited Love

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender

-o-o-o-o-o-

Toph can't see, but she can definitely feel. Many may not know this, but people actually permeates their own distinct ambience.

Aang feels like the ocean breeze, his kind words are as light as his footsteps, and his blitheness tickles her soul. Sokka is a rapid river-- quick both on wits and agile movements, letting the rest of the gaang drift freely along the gushing flow of his logic and creativity. And Zuko? Zuko was an endless source of comfort and warmth-- like soaking into hot springs, snuggling a fur blanket, inhaling a steaming cup of green tea, or slurping down a fresh bowl of wonton soup. He was… _all_ of her favorite things.

But she best remembers him in the blazing heat of midsummer, when the sun proudly boasts its golden rays, and the air is as dry as the season. She would welcome the gentle burn of the sun's incandescence upon her constantly damp skin, and the scalding heat of sand on her heavily calloused feet. _Ahhh~ it sorta felt like this._ Undoubtedly, Zuko's flames were much, much more intense, but the sensation would still take her mind down a bittersweet memory lane.

-o-o-o-o-o-

It had been many years ago, but Toph can vividly remember the day when Zuko had accidentally burnt her feet during their stay at The Western Air Temple. He had temporarily defected her "vision", and that took her back in a very dark place. Literally. And even if she concealed her vulnerability with brute strength, she felt like she was that helpless, blind little girl once again.

"I'm sorry! Let me help you. I--" a hard clump of earth had struck Zuko straight on the stomach. "I-can--" Another hit on the chin, causing him to topple backwards. "Iknowariver!" Zuko had squinted his eyes, and had both arms up to cover his face, expecting another beating as he scrambled through his final words. But then, there was… nothing. He looked up, and saw Toph carefully caressing her damaged feet while sobbing frantically, "I can't see. I really can't see!" The Fire Prince rushed over to her side, panic creeping up on him. _How badly had I actually hurt her? No. Please_. And then he saw it. Charred skin. Raw flesh. Blisters-- big ones! Some had already popped, and are oozing profusely. Toph hissed in pain, and Zuko flinched in guilt. He intuitively rested a hand on her dainty shoulders as an act of comfort. And though his voice quaked a little, and his tone a notch lower, he managed to console the young earthbender with his firm resolve, "H-hey… hey, it's okay. I promise I'll make it better. Just hang on, alright?"

Normally she would need her feet to tell whether or not a person is lying. It was exceptional how she knew instantly that Zuko's repeated pleas were sincere. She didn't even bother resisting when the young prince had delicately hoisted her up into a fireman's carry; almost afraid, and ever so careful not to touch her in places he shouldn't. Then suddenly, the Beifong heiress felt her cheeks burn as much as her scorched feet. She became more aware at how oddly she was paying attention to too much details-- like how her arm was wrapped around his neck, and how his throat would slightly jump every now and then. How firm his grasp was, and how chiseled his chest felt against her. How his scent reminded her of enkindled firewoods, and how his body radiated the same warmth. How his breathing was initially strained but later stilled, and how her own eventually synchronized with his.

Useless observations, really. And Toph would strongly deny-- with the power that all Badgermoles bestowed upon her-- that she was drawn to him. So she wisely stayed quiet throughout their whole journey, and her companion did the same. And though the river was truly a short distance away, their voluntary muteness had made time creep rather slowly. But, even when only Zuko's heavy footsteps filled the air, and their proximity suffocated her feeble heart, the young heiress still wished for time to trudge even slower.

-o-o-o-o-o-

When the pair had finally made it, Zuko gently lowered Toph by the riverside. He guided her feet into the water, and he felt at ease when she finally uttered a sigh of relief. Once she was finished soaking her feet, he insisted to apply first aid right away, otherwise it may get infected. He told her to trust him for he knows best, as he, too, had been severely burned before. It was, of course, unnecessary; Toph already knew he could be trusted, so she ultimately obliged. But not before tapping her hands on the ground that summoned a boulder of rock from under Zuko which sent him rolling three feet away from her, and she finally called it quits. He was kind of annoyed at how unbelievably childish that was, but it made him happy to be pardoned then. So he scavenged through his pack for bandages, and medicinal herbs, then gingerly elevated her legs onto his lap. He noticed how raw, and red, and tender they still were; and his constantly nudging conscience kept his eyes from meeting hers.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I really didn't know it was you."

"Well, I can't say it's okay. You burned my feet, and it stinks not being able to see." She wiggled her toes that are peeking from Zuko's heavy bandaging.

"Uhm. Yea… sure…

So… You can see?"

 _Eheh_. She knew he would ask. And it's really rather amusing how awkward people get when they try to confirm the obvious. "Yeah. I'm blind, but I can see. Somewhat. I use my feet to feel the vibrations in my surroundings. So, I don't see like everyone else, I can kind of just make their outline. I guess?"

"Oh. So how do I look?"

"Like I said, pretty much like everyone else."

"I see. That's… really good. But, how can you tell who's who?"

 _Huh_. She picked up the sound of relief in his voice, and that piqued her interest. "Hmmm… I still do have 4 other senses. I'm blind but I can still hear. So, obviously I wouldn't mistake you for Katara.I can also tell by scent, but I wouldn't go as far as taste. That's just weird. Besides, it's kind of hard to explain, but people actually has this unique vibes to them. Well anyway, enough about me! Let's talk about you, Mr. Ol' Curious One. You see, normally people don't care how I see them. How come you do?"

His sappy story is not the ideal topic to have for a recently-made friend, but given the circumstances, he find that it will be impolite not to answer her question. "When I was thirteen, my own father burned my left eye as punishment for speaking out of turn. The pain I felt was excruciating, and I had to go through numerous operations-- each of which I barely survived. It distorted my vision, of course, but it also left a very big scar." The fire prince unconsciously brushed a hand over the distinct ridges on his skin. "Unlike the usual shade of hazel, members of my family are blessed with golden-yellow eyes; a basic indicator of our royal hierarchy in the Fire Nation. But everyone overlooks mine; all they see is this scar-- the mark of the banished prince! … It is nice to meet someone who can't see it for a change."

Toph _never_ gets speechless. She always has something to say-- snarky comebacks, sarcastic comments, jokes, or at least a considerable input. But seriously, _how do you respond to that?!_ When she asked the question, she wasn't expecting his whole life story for an answer! And worse, he actually sounded so... _hurt_. She racked up her brain for something that could cheer him up. But nothing. She came up with nothing! Not even a word of reassurance or comfort. Just her stupid, stupid fist and its sudden contact with his arm!

"Ow! What was that for?!" The fire prince finally snapped out of his bitter thoughts.

"Uhhh… Nothing?" The blind bandit remarked with a straight face.

 _Weird_. "Anyway, I'm all done. Go get some rest."

And with that, the young earthbender had built her makeshift tent, complete with a shut door.

That night, the evening chill steadily blew, but the thought of his cruel story made her feel even colder, so sleep hardly came by. Then, suddenly she heard it-- the fading sound of footsteps-- he was leaving her! _Ugh! How could he-_ \- She will neither be bothered by it nor chase him, however. She's been carrying her own weight all this time, and fighting her own battles; she does not need somebody to save her! Like she's some pathetically limp little damsel that needs a depressed but dependable prince. _Tch. Whatever! Everything is okay. I'll rest. I'll somehow find my way back to camp in the morning._

-o-o-o-o-o-

With the concordance croaking of the badgerfrogs, the snarky little girl awoke the morning after. She had decided to release her wrath to anything that would piss her off that day, even a fruitfly would get it! That's why it really surprised her that when the walls of her tent collapsed, three small campfires were strategically placed around her sleeping area, some kind of burnt barbecue was ready for breakfast, and most importantly, _Zuko_ \-- He was there; he _stayed_!

"Morning, Bed head! I caught some fish last night, and grilled them this morning. Uhh.. would you like some?" The fire prince felt modest, he didn't even mention how he'd spent his sleeping hours sustaining the heat of their campfires, and keeping watch. But somehow, he anticipated to receive at least a trinket of appreciation for trying.

"No kidding! That fish smells beyond grilled! I'm afraid it'll turn to dust if I touch it."

"Ugh! Then don't eat! You can starve for all I care!"

"Oh relax, Your Royal Grumpiness, I was just joking." The Blind Bandit swiftly took one of the skewered fish that the firebender was holding onto, and she gave him a playful punch on the arm. "Thank you, Chef Toasty."

From then she knew what the tickling sensation in her chest meant, and she was neither going to resist nor deny it to herself anymore. However, she does not intend to do anything about it either-- she will just let that emotion settle there, and subside in due time, when her heart no longer throb in excitement, but in pain.

-o-o-o-o-o-

A punch on the arm became their thing, though Zuko never returned it. A punch is for when conversations get heavy, and the bickering it'll ensue will somehow lift their moods. A punch is to avoid awkwardness when the earthbending master wishes to show some sort of friendly affection or appreciation. And, he eventually understood, that a punch is for him to know _he has her._

So when they got back to camp, after he had travelled all the way on foot while she was on his back, he got a punch. Or when they saw the Ember Island Players and he failed to find an ounce of humor in their performance, he got a punch. And the many times he would find the need to play the role of a bait to give the rest of the gaang some time to flee, he'd get a punch, or sometimes three.

But there are odd times when the punches would come in unusual moments, and just very randomly. Like when he got punched for taking Katara's side over Aang's about needing "closure" with Yon Rha. Then another just before they left for their field trip, and a hard one right after they came back. But he got none when he left with Aang OR Sokka. Weird, but girls had always been like that-- _crazy_. So he simply thought that it's part of who she is, and dismissed the notion unfigured.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Seismic sense lets her feel e-ve-ry-thing; which is both its beauty and its flaw. It's easy for anyone else to look away, or to squeeze their eyelids shut when they don't want to see any more. But not her. So she knew. She knew the reason behind _their_ erratic heartbeats, and the quick, sudden cessation of their breaths when either one joins the circle. The way their focus would divert from one thing to the _other_ , but would stubbornly fight the urge to turn their stiffened necks. And when they do, how long their stares would linger and how abundant with unspoken emotions those silent moments were.

It was the same reason why he sought her approval, why he continually pursued, and why he always took her side; how their life-changing field trip had definitely changed both _their's_ , and why, amongst them all, he chose to be with Katara (a waterbender-- weak against lightning) in his _final_ battle.

It was truly awful how she knew of all these things, yet no one knew about her's. How, in every telltale signs of _their_ budding romance, she would also mimic their physical reactions. Except, with every crushing contraction of her tachypneic heart and abrupt deflation of her collapsing lungs, her blank eyes will no longer emulate childish bravado. It will, instead, glaze over with sadness-- one only known to those who had cloaked their bleak admiration with friendship.

But it was okay. It was expected. Katara, after all, felt like home. Her caring nature was like Polaris star to the lost, or a flame to a moth. Everyone was enticed by it. Drawn to it. Needed it. She can mend not only superficial traumas but ones that were also felt within. She was an intricate woman, a keeper, a nurturer. She was… perfect for him! Water and Fire. Blue and Red. Tranquility and Chaos. Balance. An earthbender was a misfit in that equation, and that fact wrung a disregarded heart in different directions. But it was okay. It was expected. It was to be accepted.

Besides, she called it from the very beginning though, didn't she? She knew the feeling that shook her center, and made her lose balance was bad news. She knew the tickles will not last, and the prickles that soon replaced it left a crack in her heart. Again and again. Over and over. Until it crumbled with every implied rejection. With every lost chance. But didn't she have a plan? To let it all go?

So, she readied herself to lose him to Katara, but she was never _ever_ prepared to lose him forever. But time was cruel and unforgiving as it waited not for the young heiress to rid of her affections, and swiftly claimed the life of its intended object instead.

-o-o-o-o-o-

She will _never_ forget that day.

A wounded Katara was hauling a lifeless Zuko out of the Fire Kingdom Palace, when the rest of the gaang just arrived as reinforcement. Everyone else rushed over to help her, but not Toph. God, she knew right away! The absence of his heartbeat, the lack of respiration, and the flaccidness of his limbs were more than enough indications of his death.

The young earthbender immediately caved in to weakness as her knees quaked to the malevolent pounding of the realization. _He's gone! He's gone!_ She tumbled over backwards, but got a hold of Appa to prop her up. And as if her frigid hand had relayed the unfortunate message; the flying bison promptly heaved melancholic cries. The mammal's lengthy howls reverberated through the ground, and every single quiver of earth resonated every falling piece of her heart. Soon after, the rest of the gaang knew what both Katara and Toph struggled to voice. And like a silly game of graveyard; no one dared sibilate their grief. Afraid that a single crack in their silence would validate what happened; would make it more real.

She teetered slowly towards the limp body of the Fire Prince, stubbornly looking for something that she knew was no longer there. She clenched her fist tighter and tighter, but the pain from her unclipped nails as it bore through her palm had only distracted her for a mere millisecond.

"C'mon. Katara? Heal him." The Blind Bandit, unsure of which direction to face, broke the ice in the worst possible way.

Still hesitant to acknowledge the fact, however, no one dared to respond. She just got heavier, stifled breaths in return; and if there's one thing that ticks the Earth Kingdom heiress most, it's being ignored.

"C'MON! KATARA! HEAL HIM!" She tried. She really did, to sound tough. But the anguish and desperation seethed through the sudden hoarseness of her voice.

"Toph, he's… _gone_."

Oh, if it isn't for the almighty Sokka to put it upon himself to shove a spoonful of bitter truth down her already-grated throat! He had done it though; what nobody else could. Accepting what everybody else can't. Still, it was quite appalling how he can just blatantly preach it, as if everything was already set in stone. Even if it was, Toph is not an earthbender for nothing! She would pulverize every single cenotaph, obelisks, and cairns if she have to! Because Zuko can't be dead. He just… _can't_.

"Aang! You can talk to Roku, right? Scarface hasn't been de-- gone for long. Maybe you can talk to him? You better tell him to get his a* back here so I can kick it myself for… for… for scaring us like this!"

The young nomad knew better than to answer. The pauses in her sentence were a slip even he can not ignore. For as quiet as she had tried to be, her sniffles still echoed in the dead air.

"Arrgh!" Every useless second got more and more infuriating! Their group is notorious for doing the impossible, and time and again they've managed to dodge every one of death's close calls. Heck! Aang answered a call, but somehow he's here with them now, right? So, _Why isn't anyone doing something?! Please! Why of all times, can't a miracle happen now?_

She carelessly swung her molded hand to the Fire Prince's arm (as she once always did), but quickly regretted the contact when the whiplash of all her suppressed emotions unveiled as the chill of his body crept upon her every single cell.

 _He's… cold._

See, Toph knew from the start that it's no longer there; but to actually feel the absence of his distinct fervor _broke_ _her_.

-o-o-o-o-o-

During midsummer, when the nights are short yet lonely, she would still wish for time to rewind back to that fateful walk by the riverside. But wishes, as we all know it, rarely come true.

Many say _first love never dies,_ but Toph can no longer believe in that. Because to this day, her heart still breaks the same way, if not even more so, when _he did._

-o-o-o-o-o-

 **Author's Note:** Hello! It's been a while, sorry! Life simply got in the way. Also, I actually had a hard time writing this chapter. I thought that I may have gone OOC with Toph, which kind of sucks because she's my favorite character. Anyway, thanks for stopping by. Let me know what you think. Next chap: Katara.


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